


Lazarus Taxon

by OneOfThoseThings



Series: Interspecies Compatibility [12]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can be read as platonic but I personally ship TF out of these two, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, Probably pay attention to the character tags, Time Skips, Unfortunate Implications, Well an okay ending, no beta we die like men, the slow path
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOfThoseThings/pseuds/OneOfThoseThings
Summary: Donna finds herself on the slow path back. Time marches on for the Doctor.(Optional Epilogue for the Interspecies Compatibility series, but can be read on its own as an alternative sort of fix-it.)
Relationships: Donna Noble & The Doctor's TARDIS, Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, The Doctor/Donna Noble, Thirteenth Doctor & Donna Noble
Series: Interspecies Compatibility [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637608
Comments: 54
Kudos: 150





	1. Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> Lazarus Taxon (ala Wikipedia): Species or populations that were thought to be extinct, and are rediscovered.

Donna approached the familiar blue box feeling like she might find a ruin where her home had once stood. It seemed so long ago that she’d last heard the singing, but she could hear it again even now, light and on the wind. When she got close enough she brushed her hands over the paneling, tracing every line into her memory alongside so many other memories of the same magnificent thing. 

She leaned in, resting her forehead on the paneling, and whispered, “Please.” 

The lock disengaged. 

Something terrible and beautiful welled in her chest as she stepped over the threshold. 

The TARDIS welcomed her as though she’d never left, singing in her mind and brushing great cosmic tendrils over her in the gentlest strokes. 

“Hello, Old Girl,” Donna sighed, “Thank you for… not forgetting me…” 

The TARDIS hummed, not understanding the concept. Donna had always existed and always would. The TARDIS didn’t know how to forget.

Donna felt a few tears slip through, and only then realized that the console room was cast in chrome instead of coral. “What…?” 

The TARDIS twittered, trying to figure out why she was confused. Donna moved cautiously around the exterior with one hand on the false wall. Every sense but sight told her this was the same, but she _knew_ it hadn’t looked like this…

Halfway through her second circuit the doors rattled and she spun around, heart leaping into her throat, only to have it plummet into her stomach as a stranger with floppy hair and a bowtie ambled in. She hit a nearby panel, snatched up a spare key, and activated the perception filter before she’d even fully processed the intrusion. 

The TARDIS chirped, perplexed, and she sent a desperate request to keep her hidden. Her old friend warbled, but complied.

The stranger waltzed right up to the console like he owned the place, and the dark shadows looming in Donna’s mind surfaced memories of regeneration, just as the unfamiliar body made a strangely familiar gesture, stroking his middle and ring fingers over the edge of the console. 

A wave of recognition nearly knocked Donna over, and then a second realization nearly drowned her entirely. She’d never see that stupid, spiky, skinny idiot ever again. That body was gone; returned to the cosmos; and she hadn’t even--

Timelines locked into place around her; she knew she couldn’t go back. Threads of possibilities hardened, forming impenetrable rails that could no longer be retread. 

The TARDIS crooned, confused again, because how could one mourn anything when form was an illusion and the Doctor was right there, as clear as anything. 

The (new, strange) Doctor cocked his head, looking up with unfamiliar eyes, but the doors clattered open again and yet another stranger waltzed in, pulling his attention. 

“Pond!” the Doctor greeted her with flapping hands and a whirl of gestures. “Where to next, do you think?”

The young woman (a child, really) sauntered over to the console, and when she leaned in to look at a screen the Doctor looked at her with heartbreaking familiarity in those unfamiliar features. He smoothed a strand of red hair where it fell forward, tucking it behind her ear, and Donna’s chest clenched like a singularity had taken root in there. 

The TARDIS cooed, confused again, and the Doctor tilted his head, looking up at the chrome ceiling, and it was all too much for Donna. She gripped the key hard enough to feel the grooves break skin and punched return coordinates into the vortex manipulator with nerveless fingers. 

She said a silent goodbye the TARDIS, ignoring her confusion at the sentiment, and let the vortex wrench her out. 


	2. Retreat

If Jack was surprised to have Donna teleport into his office at 2 in the morning, he covered it well. 

He carefully finished sipping from his mug and set it down. “Three days,” he said casually, “I’m impressed.” 

Donna nodded, quickly unhooking the wristband and holding it out. “Cleaned up a couple of lines of code while I was in there. Your nav was rotating through coordinates using a suboptimal routine.” 

“Huh,” he said, taking the band back and immediately latching it back to his own wrist, looking distinctly relieved as the last clasp closed. “Thanks,” he added, looking back up.

Donna nodded and added her own, “Thank _you_.” 

She paused just a fraction of a moment too long, and the immortal gave her a more careful look.

“Not a long reunion, I take it?” 

Donna swallowed down the lonely spike that wedged in her throat. “Seems I missed my window.” She willed herself not to think about warm brown eyes or cool fingers carding gently through red strands of hair. 

Jack’s picture perfect features took on a painfully sympathetic slant. “You too, huh?”

She turned away because he was suddenly hard to look at for a whole new list of reasons. “Right. Well. You know how these things go.”

“Yeah,” he said simply. And she suddenly needed to be somewhere else because she was going to break down and she didn’t actually know this man. The memories of him weren’t hers and none of it was _fair_. 

“Well,” she said, “Best be off then.”

Jack put one warm hand on her shoulder and when she looked up he looked back at her with centuries of understanding underwriting his handsome features. “You could stay, if you wanted. Cardiff needs more redheads. Torchwood too, if you were interested.” 

“It’s kind of you to offer, but I’ll be fine. Great big world, Time Lord brain, lots of options.” Donna moved to shrug him off, but he tightened his grip instead. 

“Think about it,” he said and then smiled winsomely, “We velveteen rabbits have to stick together.” 


	3. Twelve

Donna wasn’t entirely sure why she was standing in front of Coal Hill School, but she couldn’t quite make herself leave. She lingered by the gates for awhile and then decided she might as well go in if she was going to creep around anyway. 

A perfunctory text to Jack letting him know she wouldn’t be in reach for awhile was greeted with a few buzzing responses, but she flipped her phone off and carried on. He’d gotten used to it, and she’d make it up by modifying the drone in the archives later. 

Nothing jumped out as particularly concerning or even interesting. She took a lap around, walking purposefully so that no one questioned her. A petite brunette looked slightly suspicious at one point, but she activated the modified perception filter on her key and carried on, shuttered down to her human senses. Even with the reduced visibility, she was more and more unsure of why she’d felt the need to come. 

It was just a school, with a bunch of kids. 

She stepped into the courtyard, wondering if maybe she was having some sort of midlife crisis, and a strange old man came barreling out of nowhere, already barking at her with a thick Scottish accent.

“Ohhh, no, this is _un_ acceptable! You can _not_ be―“ He cut off when she turned and for a moment it looked like he was going to pass out. 

“Er,” Donna said after a moment, when he didn’t continue _or_ pass out. “Is something wrong?” 

His eyes were very wide, practically filling his face, which was quite a feat considering how much of it was already taken up by his eyebrows. “You can’t be here!” he said, like that was something he could possibly know. 

Donna put her hands on her hips. “That’s a nice way to greet visitors! I’m here to pick up my niece, if you must know.”

The old man’s brows slammed down at a rate that must have made it hard to see. “You don’t have a niece. You don’t have siblings!” 

Donna didn’t, but that wasn’t exactly the sort of thing someone could tell just by looking at her. “Excuse me, do I know you?” 

“No!” He somehow managed to glare while looking like he was moments away from a cardiac event. “Why would you know a school caretaker?” He seemed to find the idea ludicrous. 

Come to think of it, he really did look familiar. Donna squinted at him. “Hang on, _do_ I know you?” 

His eyes somehow got even wider and he whirled around, trying to pull his collar up. “No, of course not! But you can’t be here! It’s, uh, very damp right now! Horribly damp! Also there are stinging nettles!” He gestured at the ground, which was mostly cobblestones with perhaps three patches of grass. 

“Yeah,” Donna said slowly, “It seems like a real hazard, but somehow I think I’ll survive…” She looked back at him, trying to figure out why he looked familiar. 

The old man tried to tug his collar up again and then started digging around in his pockets. “It’s very important that you not be here!” 

She circled around. “You look very familiar…”

“No, I don’t!” he snapped, hopping back like a jumping spider. 

Something niggled at the back of her mind. “Do you have family in Italy?”

“What? No! What a strange question!” He whipped a ridiculously large map out of his pocket, and flung it open, hiding behind it. “Isn’t it rude to just ask people if they’re Italian? I might hate Italians!” 

Donna prodded her memory, trying to figure out where she’d seen that face.

He snapped down a corner of the map just far enough to glare over it. “What class is your niece in?”

Donna blinked. “What?” 

“Your niece! The niece you claim to be here to visit! What class is she in? I’ll direct you.” 

“Fifth,” Donna answered, hoping that was a valid class. 

The man looked like he didn’t know either, and was only just now realizing that was a flaw in his plan. His expression shifted toward confused and Donna simultaneously realized where she knew that face from and why she _shouldn’t_ know that face. 

“Oh!” she squeaked, slamming into reverse. “She’d be on the other side of campus today!” 

The out-of-place face screwed up, more confused now. “Who would?” 

“My niece!” Donna reminded him, trying not to stare, but unable to actually avoid it. She found herself focusing on his hands. He was wearing a wedding ring. 

The Doctor blinked at her around the edge of the map. “Ah. Right. Yes. Good!”

“So I’ll go look for her there, shall I?” She felt a bit silly, trying to remember what he should look like while he was standing right there. 

He blinked again, looking suspicious, but still recognizing that this was the outcome he’d hoped for. “Yes, I think that would be best.” 

“Yes,” she said, “Well.” Donna forced herself to turn and walk away. 

She thought he heard him mumble something, but the wind carried it off. 


	4. Return

Now that she knew what she was looking for, Donna found the TARDIS in the basement. Not even properly concealed― the Doctor was getting careless in his advanced age. 

She approached cautiously, wondering how to check to make sure he wasn’t in there already, and the doors swung open, revealing an empty control room. 

She stepped inside, and let the feeling of home wash over her. “Hello, Old Girl,” she said.

The TARDIS chittered a welcome, sliding over her mind. 

Donna didn’t disguise her pleased response, letting it bubble up freely. She looked over the space. “Remodeled again?” 

The TARDIS nudged her memory of eleven-dimensional space to the forefront, reminding her that the overlay had nothing to do with the energy that lay fixed within. 

“Right…” Donna stroked the console anyway, just to feel the amused flutter in the back of her mind. 

“That reminds me― Did he take that old man’s face? Can he do that? Just take people’s faces?” 

The TARDIS warbled, unclear on why it mattered, but flashed images of Pompeii behind her eyes, as clearly as if she were looking at it now. She closed her eyes to focus, and the old console room formed around her, complete with her original Doctor, stalking around hitting switches with enough force to shake ash loose in clumps. She could hear herself begging him to go back, to just save one person, and he looked up so slowly…

Her throat tightened and her eyes burned and she had to blink her eyes back open before she lost her grip on the present. 

The TARDIS crooned, still unclear on why she would mourn someone who was still very much alive and unchanged except for a meaningless overlay. 

“It’s hard to explain,” Donna said, wiping her eyes. Her thoughts shifted, unbidden to the wedding ring. 

The TARDIS flickered through memories of River Song. When she filtered in the concept of Amelia Pond, Donna stopped her. 

“I think this is just snooping through his diary now,” she mumbled. “Besides― How have _you_ been?” she asked, stroking the console again. 

The TARDIS sang to her as she flickered through concepts too complex for a human mind to even register. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t quite follow the language; she tasted the sentiment like drinking in galaxies. Fantastical colors bloomed bright in her mind and she was home and seen and _loved_. 

The TARDIS pulled back, as gently as she could, but Donna still shivered at the loss. Before she could even ask, she knew that the Doctor was returning. 

She palmed her key, activating the perception filter, and ducked out just in time to dart around to the far side before footsteps approached. 

The TARDIS brushed her fondly where she leaned against the wood, and the Doctor’s footsteps stuttered, but continued inside after only a few moments’ hesitation. 

Donna waited until the door shut, pressed her forehead to the panel for one last farewell, and hurried back down the corridor before she lost her nerve. 


	5. Thirteen

Donna really didn’t know why she had a sudden uncontrollable urge to visit Sheffield, but honestly, with an urge as specific and strange as that, she figured it was worth checking out. 

Jack didn’t agree, but she suspected he just wanted her to feel guilty so she’d shore up the firewalls later. 

Since she didn’t know where she was going or what she was looking for, she just wandered around a bit, following whatever caught her eye. She ended up in a residential neighborhood, even less clear on her objective than before. But on her second pass through the complex, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. 

There was nothing there when she looked, but when she turned away again it blinked in her periphery. A perception filter. 

She sidled closer, probably looking very strange to anyone who happened to look out the window, but she managed to sneak up on it, finally backing her way into an unmistakable blue box. 

“Oh, hello!” she said, looking up at the awning. “Feel like you could have helped there…” 

In spite of the lack of assistance, the TARDIS greeted her as warmly as ever, clicking the door open and urging her inside. 

“Did you not see me looking for you?” Donna wondered, taking in yet another new design. This one was at least more organic, with crystals where she still half-expected to find coral. 

The TARDIS glowed, lighting up a series of panels guiding her deeper inside. 

“Are you all right?” Donna asked, feeling a bit silly even as she said it. Did multi-dimensional celestial beings even get sick? 

The TARDIS crooned, trying to relay something, but it was a bit discombobulated, like she hadn’t interacted directly with a human in a long time. 

Donna stroked the crystalline structure. “How long has it been?” 

Her mind swam with a disorienting concept of eons. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” Donna stroked the crystal again, leaning her head against it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so long between visits.” 

The TARDIS muddled over her guilt, unsure what to make of it, and Donna focused on how happy she was to see her old friend instead. The lights flickered and then started up an increasingly elaborate display. 

Donna laughed, “I missed you too.” 

A strange, unknown voice intruded sharply. 

“What on Earth has you all excited―?“ A blond woman appeared out of the inner depths, and then puffed up defensively when she she spotted Donna. “Ohhh nonononono― no!” She charged up to her, shouting in a thick Northern accent. “You can’t be here! How are you here?” She threw an accusatory glare at the ceiling. “Did _you_ let her in?!?” She grabbed Donna’s arm in a surprisingly tight grip, dragging her back toward the door. “Listen, this is all just a strange dream, yeah? No need to think about dreams. Probably best just to forget it. No one remembers dreams properly―“ 

Donna’s shock finally wore off enough for her to plant her feet, jerking them to a stop. “A dream? Seriously, is that the best you can come up with? What, are you new?”

The woman whipped around and froze, staring at Donna with wide brown eyes. Blond hair fell into her pretty face.

Donna groaned. “Please tell me you’re not named Rose. Because honestly, it’s just pathetic at this point…” 

The woman gaped at her like she’d sawed off her own head. “Donna… How do you know that name?” 

Donna looked up to the ceiling automatically. Who _was_ this weirdo? 

The TARDIS chittered, thoroughly confused as to why she wouldn’t recognize the Doctor and Donna snapped her head back down, gaping too now. “Oh my God!” she squeaked. 

The Doctor (apparently), looked between her and the ceiling, clearly guessing what had just been relayed, but not looking any more prepared to deal with it than she was. There was something in the panicked glance that was so painfully familiar― Donna gasped like she’d been punched in the chest. 

“Doctor?”

Several familiar emotions flashed over the Doctor’s features too quickly to register, and she landed on something flickering violently between hope and abject horror. “…Donna?” she breathed, barely audible, “Do you know who I am?” 

There was something in her expression that was so familiar it hurt to look at directly. Donna’s eyes watered, trying to focus on the correct plane, while her human eyes ached for pinstripes and sideburns. 

She gave herself a shake. “Of course I know you, you barmy alien.” She put her arms out to gesture and found herself nearly bowled over instead as the Doctor pulled her into a frantic hug. 

The Doctor’s arms were shorter than they should be, but she clutched Donna close with the same desperate strength and made a painfully familiar sound in her ear before gasping “Donna!” in an unfamiliar voice. 

Donna laughed, crying just a bit, and squeezed her as tightly as she could manage. Two unfamiliar hearts thudded against her in a familiar rhythm, and she had blonde hair in her face, but she could barely breathe through the pure relief.

The Doctor tensed and shoved her back to look at her with wet, strange eyes. “Donna, your head! Is it―?“

Donna laughed, scrubbing at her face. “Oh _now_ you remember!”

Brown eyes looked her up and down in a painfully familiar scan. “Are you―?“ She swallowed, her small fingers digging into Donna’s arms. “I can―“ She jerked her hands up toward her head.

Donna flinched back, hands up. “Oh, nono! No!!” She backed into the crystal, which wasn’t nearly as soft as the coral, but thrummed reassuringly all the same. “We’re _not_ doing that again! I’m fine, by the way. Not that you ever cared to check!” 

The Doctor wrenched her hands back down to her sides. “What? _How?!_ ”

Donna knocked two knuckles against the crystal behind her head. “At least _someone_ around here can think under pressure.” 

The Doctor looked at the crystal then at Donna then at the ceiling, then back the crystal and then back at Donna, eyes widening at every turn. “The TARDIS?!” 

Donna paused and then reluctantly pulled the old, worn fob watch out of her pocket, clutching it protectively. “Seems I had a hardware issue that needed some time to work itself out. The TARDIS helped buy me that time.” Her thumb rubbed the surface where there had once been grooves, long since smoothed over by repetitive motions. 

The TARDIS chirped and purred, warming the panel behind her back and Donna gave her another discreet stroke while the Doctor was still gaping at the fob watch.

“That watch is radiating Artron energy,” the Doctor said.

Donna nodded. “Best way to alter human DNA this side of Gallifrey.” 

The Doctor whipped out some crazy device that let out an all too familiar sonic whir, and before Donna could do more than squawk, she’d scanned her twice and was staring intently at the readout. 

“Donna,” she breathed, looking up at her like a benediction, “You’re fine.” A wide, manic grin stretched her features. “You’re just fine!” And then she jumped on her again, wrapping her arms as tight as she could get them and knocking Donna’s head back into the crystal with the force of it. 

Donna laughed and hugged her back. “Yeah, I’ve _just_ said that! You’ve got to learn to _listen_!” 

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay,” the Doctor chanted, burying her face in Donna’s neck, which felt suspiciously damp. 

“Course I am,” Donna said, carding through the much longer hair at the back of her head, “What, you think one look in your head would kill me? The ego on you.” 

As always, the Doctor just gripped her closer. 


	6. Thirteen Point One

They worked their way into the galley, where the TARDIS had set up tea like the Queen might be joining them. 

“How long has it been?” Donna asked, looking over the renovated space because it was still easier than looking at the renovated Doctor. 

“Oh, hard to say,” the Doctor said, as evasively as ever. 

Donna gave her a sharp look and she rubbed her neck. “Depending on how you count, it’s been a little over 1200 or 4.5 billion years.”

Donna put her tea down with a clunk. “You expect me to believe you’ve gotten _that_ bad at counting?”

The Doctor studied her own tea carefully. “It’s… complicated…”

Donna looked around again, searching for signs of other life. “Have you been travelling with kids again? They let you get away with too much! If you think I’m just going to―“ 

“I was trapped in a confession dial loop for 4.5 billion years,” the Doctor said.

Donna gaped at her. “When?” 

The Doctor shrugged. “I don’t really keep track anymore.” 

“Was it― was it this form of you? Or one of the other two? Have there been more than two others?” She directed the last to the ceiling, and the TARDIS warbled a vague confirmation, still not clear on why it mattered. 

“The last one,” the Doctor said, and then went rigid. “Wait― How do you―?”

Donna huffed, looking dedicatedly at her tea. “I might have checked in. Once or twice. The TARDIS _did_ save my life, you know!” 

There was a long, tense pause, and Donna flicked a look up to find the Doctor staring at her like she’d just slapped her in the face. 

“I came back,” Donna admitted, “After the― after I remembered… I was just going to― I don’t know…” She traced an imaginary line across the organic countertop with one nail. 

There was another, longer pause, and when she looked up the Doctor looked back, horrified. “You came back?” she asked, barely audible, “But you didn’t―“ 

Donna sighed, setting her shoulders. “Seemed I’d missed my window. Had yourself a new face and a new… friend…” The word still tasted bitter on her tongue. Which was ridiculous. It had been _a decade_. She couldn’t quite keep from asking, “Is the redhead still around…?”

“Amy’s gone,” the Doctor said, slowly, like the words were hard to get out. “She lived out her life centuries ago… with her husband…”

Donna flicked a glance up and then down to the Doctor’s hands which were noticeably missing any rings. “And River?”

She could feel the Doctor staring at her. 

“You already know how that ended,” she said. 

Donna nodded, looking around for a stray shoe or jacket or some sign of any other occupants. “So… a whole new supporting cast then?” 

The Doctor made an abortive movement, clenching her teacup with white knuckles. “It’s not like that,” she said. 

“No shame in it,” Donna said loftily. “Who wouldn’t want a new model every half century? We only live so long.” 

The Doctor looked like she’d swallowed something sharp and was unsure how to spit it out. “I didn’t know you could― I thought you’d _burn_ if you remembered.”

“Yes, well,” Donna said, getting the hang of a casual tone now, “You’re wrong about all kinds of things. Hate to break it to you, but I knew that long before I had a Time Lord consciousness crammed in my head.”

The Doctor looked at her with what was becoming a familiar mix of guilt and misery. “I wouldn’t have done what I did if I thought there was any other way of keeping you alive.” 

Donna tried very hard not to think about cool fingers on her temples and a cold, calculating presence in her mind. The only benefit of regeneration so far was that she could keep that memory separate. She knew the Doctor sitting in front of her was the same Doctor who’d bricked her into her own mind, but the human part of her was having a blissfully hard time fully reconciling the two. She wasn’t proud of how little interest she had in correcting that oversight. 

“I’m not quite sure how to talk to you about that,” she admitted. 

The Doctor nodded, eyes locked on her teacup. 

“I know it was killing me,” Donna said, feeling strangely removed from that statement. “I wanted to let it. I’d have rather died whole than lived on as a shadow.”

“You wouldn’t have known!” the Doctor said, and then clamped her mouth shut like she hadn’t meant to. 

Donna laughed and it came out dark and twisted. “Oh, I knew. The things we did, the things I saw― That sort of experience leaves marks in indelible ink. I couldn’t see it anymore, but I knew there was something just beneath the surface…” She prodded her own mind automatically, searching for lingering gaps. A habit she’d picked up in recent years. 

The Doctor looked more miserable and it was starting to drag Donna down with her. 

“I should hate you,” she said. “I think that’s the worst part. I don’t _want_ to hate you. You were my best friend.” Just thinking about it made her aware of how pathetic it was. She’d just as soon forget the whole thing if it meant she didn’t have to hate the Doctor. 

The Doctor hunched in on herself, somehow reaching new levels of pathetic and Donna hated that too. 

“Can we just not talk about it?” she asked. 

The Doctor opened her mouth and closed it. Then she grimaced and continued like she couldn’t stop herself. “It _was_ killing you. And it was my fault. I couldn’t just… watch…” 

“You could have at least come back,” Donna said, hating the hot swell in the back of her throat that made the words that much harder to get out. 

“I thought about it,” the Doctor admitted, like it physically hurt to do so, “But, it didn't seem right, if I couldn't fix... what I'd done …And every option I came across had such terrible consequences." Her eyes turned dark and ominous. "Humans who’ve tasted immortality― It… it poisons them. I couldn’t do that… Not _knowing_ …”

Donna sighed again. “Still making poor Jack live in exile, are you?” 

The Doctor somehow stiffened further. “It’s better this way. You know better than anyone how dangerous it is to get too close to me. Imagine the effects on someone who could never be killed by it.”

Donna got up and came around the table to shove onto the bench next to her. The Doctor eyed her like she was expecting an attack, but didn’t have the heart to fight her off. 

“If I was going to slap you, I’d have done it already,” Donna said, and then pulled her into a hug. “It’s no good; you blaming yourself for everything. It’s not all up to you. Honestly, you make things so much worse when you meddle. It’s a miracle there’s any universe left the way you tear around. No wonder I had to save it.”

The Doctor was wooden and sharp in her arms, but she just hooked her chin over the strange, small shoulder. “If you can’t manage anything else, at least don’t use me for your guilt trips.” 

The Doctor crumbled in her grip, latching onto her with the strength of all the cosmos. “Donna Noble,” she said, “I’ve _missed_ you!”

“I missed you too,” Donna admitted. “Even when I didn’t know what I was missing, I missed you.” 

The Doctor squeezed her tighter, pressing her unfamiliar face into her neck hard enough that Donna suspected she’d have an impression of it bruised in as a memento. 


	7. Thirteen Point Two

With a mix of pleading and threats that devolved into mainly threats, Donna wore the Doctor down into coming to find her in a week the next time she found herself without companions. 

Exactly seven days later, to the minute, the TARDIS materialized outside her house, and welcomed her back. 

The Doctor showed her all over the ship, yammering on about all the upgrades and telling her random half-formed stories while the TARDIS twittered away in her head in a similar fashion. Donna was beginning to suspect that neither one of them had been properly socialized for far too long. 

She opened a random door and found one of the rooms the TARDIS had created for her― the one that looked like the inside of Big Ben with the face open.

“You kept this!” She walked in, looking around. “It looks just the same!” She walked over to the edge and felt around the floor panels until she found one that clicked open. An odd mix of wrappers appeared and she fished around until she found one in particular, pulling it out. She tossed it to the Doctor and dug out a second one. 

“Looks like the new kids didn’t find my stash.” She popped the candy in her mouth, humming happily. 

The Doctor looked her up and down, apparently forgetting how to interact again. 

“Are you hanging out with a bunch of mutes nowadays or what?” Donna asked, holding her wrapper up pointedly until the Doctor got the hint and popped her own candy into her mouth. 

“Course not,” the Doctor said around the treat. “They’re just less… interactive… than you. Or rather, I interact with them less. They interact with each other. They also ask fewer questions. Come to think of it, most humans ask fewer questions than you do. Do you know that about yourself?” 

Donna waved her off, moving around the room to where the wall was still merged with coral, apparently having been left out of the renovations. “You’ve been picking up humans you can bully into just letting you do what you want, haven’t you?” She put one hand on the coral, feeling the TARDIS thrum under it, and for just a moment went a bit misty. She pulled her hand back. 

“I don’t bully the humans,” the Doctor grumbled in the background. “I just… get tired of the same conversations…” 

Donna gave her a sharp look over her shoulder. “If that’s a hint, I’d just like to remind you that―“

“Not a hint! Not a hint!” The Doctor put her hands up in a familiar placating gesture. “Just… a little out of practice… Making conversation…” She pulled on her braces, looking awkward. 

“Mate, you’ve never been _in_ practice,” Donna said.

She gave Donna a strangely grateful look. “I forgot how easy it was with you.” 

Donna scoffed, “Shut it, you loon.” 

“No, it’s― You just―“ the Doctor crossed her arms, ducking her head in yet another oddly familiar gesture that fit strangely on her still unfamiliar frame. “I really have _missed_ you.”

Donna felt another annoying pang of sympathy for the stupid, useless alien that she still missed a little, even though she was right there. “Yes, well…” she couldn’t help glancing at the space in the floor where there had once been an incongruously large pouf. “Are you nicer this go around? Guess all it took was a few centuries of practice.” 

The Doctor frowned. “Well, I have interacted with a fair few humans over the years. I was even married to one for a few centuries in the middle. Off and on.” 

“Ah, yes. Good old River,” Donna decided she’d like to be in a different room, as nice as this one was. She walked past the Doctor with a pat on the shoulder. “How was the mind merging with that one? Am I allowed to ask? I’d imagine it’d be a ride, based on what I’ve read in the Torchwood archives.” She opened another door at random and found it lead to the lounge. 

The Doctor followed after her. “We didn’t do that bit. She’d… had some issues with mind alterations early on. It… didn’t seem safe. Or wise. I didn’t use my telepathy that much at the time. I’m not sure she even knew it was an option.” 

Donna turned around sharply. “Really?”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s not the sort of thing most people think to ask about.” She gave Donna a strange look.

Donna gave her a look right back. “Well, it’s been centuries, right? Let’s hear some girl-time gossip.” She wandered over to a couch and sat down. 

The Doctor followed and sat on the other end. “Haven’t actually revisited that,” she shrugged. 

Donna threw her arms wide. “What?! What was the point of all that practice if you weren’t even going to try?!” 

The Doctor looked away. “Not sure if you noticed, but that series of experiments didn’t exactly end well for all parties.” 

Donna blew out her cheeks. “Oh pffft, you can’t possibly think we caused the metacrisis with mind sex!”

The Doctor crossed her arms. “For the last time, it’s not called―“

“There’s no way that’s the point!” Donna exploded, “Are you telling me that after all that, you just went right back to moping around on your own?!?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” the Doctor said. “I’ve had companions. You’ve _seen_ two of them. I just haven’t…” she gestured vaguely. “It hasn’t come up.” 

Donna rubbed her knuckle into her own temple, realized what she was doing, and moved her hand to her forehead. “Christ, you’re melodramatic.” 

The Doctor crossed her arms. “I told you, it’s not just a matter of picking whoever’s closest and ‘going for it.’” She added air quotes to the last bit. Which was both new and unacceptably annoying. 

“It doesn’t have to be a companion, you know. ‘Keeping it in the family’ isn’t necessarily a philosophy that’s encouraged in these sorts of things. At least in the human equivalent.” 

“Yes, well, I’ve had plenty of the human equivalent to make up for it,” the Doctor said.

Donna raised her brows, strangely intrigued. “Oh?”

The Doctor looked like she still couldn’t imagine why this was an interesting topic of conversation. “I did mention I married a human, didn’t I? Humans do think to ask about _that_ version of connecting.” 

Donna considered that. “Huh. So you figured out how to do that without any of the mental bits? I thought you _liked_ the mental bits…”

The Doctor looked away. “It didn’t seem right…”

Donna added that to the list of things not to think too hard about. 


	8. Thirteen Point Three

On her third visit to the TARDIS, Donna had just enough time on her own to give in to an urge she’d been ruthlessly suppressing thus far. The Doctor wandered off to check something and she was left on her own to chat with the TARDIS. 

“Don’t suppose you have any emergency protocols archived from back when I was here?” Donna couldn’t quite help asking.

The TARDIS whirred and a hologram of the current Doctor’s incarnation popped up. 

“No, not―“ Donna tried to picture her original Doctor more clearly, pulling it to the forefront of her mind. 

The TARDIS warbled, not understanding the difference. She flickered through a few protocols, mostly the current incarnation, but a few older versions slipped in. Donna waited, shamefully hopeful, and after a few minutes there was a flicker of pinstripes. 

“That one!” she said, embarrassingly loudly, but the TARDIS pulled it back up and it was hard to care. 

“This is Protocol 781: The library is venting chlorine. If there is no-“

“Can you mute it?” Donna asked. 

The TARDIS cut the sound, now completely unsure what the purpose of this exercise could possibly be. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Donna said, watching the familiar figure gesture in increasing levels of complexity. 

“Donna, I think I found those biscuits you were looking for. Are they supposed to be blue?” the (actual, live) Doctor walked in, and Donna nearly jumped out of her skin. 

She kicked the projection panel closed, but not quite fast enough. 

“…What are you doing?” the Doctor asked, sounding like she was entirely unsure she wanted to hear the answer. 

“Oh, you know. Just, uh, channel surfing.” Her eyes felt too hot and she scrubbed a sleeve over them. “What was that about biscuits?” 

The Doctor looked at her like she’d just killed her last best friend. “…I, er, found a box…”

Donna forced a smile onto her face and held out her hand. “Well, let’s see them!” 

The Doctor eyed her warily, but handed over the box. 

Donna opened it, but she could feel the Doctor staring. She fiddled with the wrapping and then sighed.

“I just thought it might have been nice to… see that old face. Just one last time. Say goodbye, maybe. You know us humans. We get attached to silly little things like what our best mates look like.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself not to think about it.

“Right…” the Doctor stared at the floor, looking lost. She made a strange gesture like she was trying to put her hands in pockets that weren’t in the location she was expecting. She patted around until she found them and pushed her hands in, rocking back on her heels. “Must be a bit of a shock, this.” 

“Well, how would you feel if I showed up speaking Cantonese with blond hair and a beard?” Donna joked. 

“Why would I care about that?” the Doctor looked genuinely confused.

Donna felt another bout of weepiness coming on and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. “Yeah, I forget. We’re all just...” She gestured vaguely. “...Paper mâché shapes to you, huh.” 

“Donna Noble,” the Doctor said, “I could never mistake you for anyone else.” 

Donna looked at her, hard, and suddenly couldn’t quite hold back. “Can I ask you something?”

The Doctor eyed her strangely, but nodded, looking her new usual mix of curious and wary. 

“There was this one time, back when we were traveling together,” Donna said, not quite sure how to bring it up. “We were supposed to have a quick stopover at home― an hour or two, max. But my mum dragged me out shopping and I was gone for most of the day. Didn’t get back until it was already dark. But the D- you didn’t even mention it. Just asked how my day had been and started digging around in my bags looking for treats…”

The Doctor tilted her head slightly. “I don’t remember any unexpectedly long visits…” 

“Right…” Donna continued. “So I was thinking… what if… I sort of… hopped back. You wouldn’t notice anything because as far as you’d know, you’d have been talking to me for most of the day anyway. Just pushed the visit back a bit. Not strange at all… right?”

“Donna,” the Doctor’s expression switched to wary and foreboding, “you can’t just hop back on your own timeline. You know why.”

“Right,” Donna said, “No, never mind. Forget I asked.” She turned and fiddled with the nearest crystal strut, wondering how awkward one could possibly feel before physically passing out. 

“…Why _did_ you ask?” the Doctor queried after a long, awkward pause. 

“Oh, you know,” Donna blew out her cheeks. “Just thought it might help that stupid human part of my brain that still… well… I didn’t really get to say goodbye, did I? Didn’t even know it was going to be goodbye… And then I spent all that time looking without even knowing what I was looking for…” She tried to plaster on a smile, but she could feel it listing. “Not that it even makes sense. I know you’re here. You’re _right here_! I _know_ that.” The smile cracked a little further. “It’s just… I, uh, I think humans just get a little obsessed about closure.” She tried to dial the smile back up. “Just one of those things, I guess.” She couldn’t quite stop staring at the crystals where they arched into the wall. 

The Doctor didn’t answer and when Donna looked up she had that lost lonely look on her face. 

“I’m sorry!” Donna said, because she was. She came around to give the Doctor a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing it on purpose.” 

The Doctor hugged her back as tightly as ever, still just a lost lonely alien who clung to the slightest show of affection. “Donna, I’m _right here_.” 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Donna mumbled. “I’m not trying to say goodbye to _you_.” 

The Doctor gripped her harder― always a bit too hard these days, like she’d gone slightly feral. 

“Just... forget I asked.” Donna patted her hair and tried to move back, but the Doctor just tightened her hold. “Please just―“

“Do you remember the date?” the Doctor asked, barely audible.

Donna held very still, trying to decide whether she’d actually heard correctly. “May 11, 2008,” she said. “You stayed parked in Chiswick because I didn’t want you getting the timing wrong.” 

There was another long pause and then the Doctor pulled back to look at her. “That was before the Library. You wouldn’t be able to… do anything…”

Donna tried to laugh, but it came out high and strange. “Yeah, I pieced that together. Believe me, there are easier ways to getthat sort of thing.” She waited, barely breathing, not sure what her face was doing, but sure it probably wasn’t what she wanted. 

“You’d have to wear a modified shimmer,” the Doctor continued, “You looked different then.”

“Oi!” Donna pulled back a little further. “Are you calling me old? We used to look the same age! Not my fault I can’t just pick out a new body and roll the dial back every few years!” 

The Doctor tried to smile, but it came out much too grim. “I meant your timelines.” She gestured vaguely and Donna could feel other senses engaging― senses she didn’t have in May 2008. 

“Oh,” she deflated, “Right.” She tried for a sheepish look, suspecting she hadn’t quite pulled it off. “Shimmer― got it.” 

“And you’d have to leave the watch,” the Doctor added. 

“What?” Donna reached for it automatically, caught herself, and forced her hand back. “Why?” 

The Doctor gave her a level-eyed look. “No matter how much of an idiot you think I am now or was then, I’d notice a fob watch filled with Artron energy and I’d have a lot of questions about what my 21st Century human companion would be doing with it.” 

Donna took a deep breath. “Fine.”

* * *

“11:15 in the morning, GMT, May 11, 2008,” the Doctor announced. “Chiswick, London, England, Earth, the Solar System.” 

Donna hovered behind the Doctor, trying not to look like she was watching the display with more interest than she’d ever shown any display in her life. 

The Doctor turned to her and held out her hand. “Fob watch,” she reminded. 

Donna seriously doubted she’d hand it over under literally any other circumstance, but… She reluctantly pulled it from her pocket. 

Just as she was about to hand it over, she had a sudden, horrifying thought. “You’re― You’re not going to leave me, are you?” She clutched the watch to her chest. “This _is_ Chiswick, right?” She looked at the screen, which read the same confirmation as before. 

The Doctor just stared back at her with her ancient eyes, somehow always so sad and yet always managing to look sadder still. 

“You used to trust me with your life,” she said. So quietly it hurt to hear.

Donna swallowed and handed the fob watch over. If she was going to be abandoned again, she figured she should at least go out the same way she always did― trusting the Doctor. 

The Doctor pocketed the watch and left her hands in, rocking back on her heels. “Well,” she said.

Donna looked at her, looked at the door, looked at the display― still confirming Chiswick― and looked back at the Doctor. 

Something dangerous fluttered in her chest, trying to escape the flood of something even more treacherous, welling up inside. 

She leaned in, grabbed the Doctor by the back of the neck and pressed an urgent, desperate kiss to her hard mouth. 

“ _Thank_ you.” She turned and hurried out the doors.


	9. Ten

Donna found the other TARDIS immediately and then just stood outside the doors for four minutes and 37 seconds before she managed to get up the strength to push inside. 

The TARDIS sang, as happy to see her as ever, not even registering that she was a different version than the one that had just left. She really might not understand the concept. 

Donna quietly greeted her back, and asked her not to give the Doctor any readings on herself. 

The TARDIS chirped confirmation, pleasantly surprised to get such a clear request. 

She grimaced a little, imagining how confused the ship was going to be for the next part of her linear timeline after this. 

She immediately forgot that concern when she spotted a familiar mess of hair bobbing around on the far side of the console. Her heart actually skipped two beats. 

“Back so soon?” the Doctor popped out, hunting around for some tool in the mess spread across the grating. 

He was exactly as she remembered him― all different shades of brown and sharp lines and big eyes with those ridiculous eyebrows and that preposterous hair. Her vision started to swim and she blinked it back, swallowing around the heart lodged in her throat. 

The Doctor looked up, curious, and she realized he’d asked a question. She opened her mouth, swallowed harder, and tried again. “Wouldn’t you know it, the neighbors said they just stepped out. Should be back in a couple of hours though. Figured I’d just wait here.” 

The Doctor nodded, clearly only half listening as he continued his hunt for a wrench or whatever it was he was looking for. “Want to just skip ahead?” he offered. 

“Nah,” she said. It came out a bit wet, but he just flicked a curious glance at her. She cleared her throat. “Might as well let you get in your repairs. I can just hang out in here.” 

The Doctor scrunched up his nose. “By ‘hang out’ do you mean ‘sit there and criticize my organizational systems’ because I’ll have you know this all makes perfect sense in eleven dimensions,” he sniffed, rubbing his neck. Donna almost burst into tears. 

She managed something that sounded enough like a laugh. “You say that, but the TARDIS seems just as confused.”

He gave her a curious look and she remembered she wasn’t actually supposed to be able to tell that. 

“That’s what the whirring means, right?” she asked to cover. 

The TARDIS chittered, wondering what was wrong with her, but she figured that couldn’t hurt. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “No, I’ve already told you…” he launched into a rant about the intricate inner workings of a sentient space-time machine and Donna enjoyed the sound of his stupid voice more than she’d ever thought possible. He went back to working while he was talking, and his hair brushed the underside of the console, flattening and springing up in sync with his exaggerated movements. 

She walked around to pretend to look at the monitor, ruffling his hair as she went by and he startled, eying her in profile like a wary chicken. 

“You’re getting dust in it,” she said.

He scoffed, “There’s no dust in the TARDIS.” 

She reached a hand past him to drag a finger on the underside of the console and presented the dark streak triumphantly. 

The Doctor sniffed. “That is a crucial component of the flight sequencing. It only looks like dust to your paltry human senses.” 

“Oh my mistake,” she said, and rubbed it on his neck. 

His double pulse jumped under her fingertips, and he glared, rubbing at the spot. “Weren’t you supposed to be somewhere else right now?” 

“That’s no way to talk to your companion,” she tutted, sitting down next to him on the grating. He looked surprised and suspicious, but she propped up against him and he went back to fiddling, always a sucker for body heat. 

She was close enough to take in every feature, every detail, but she wasn’t supposed to be staring, so she kept forcing herself to look away. Conveniently, this version of the Doctor was just as happily oblivious as she remembered. She asked him stray questions about what parts he was holding, and he blathered on about components and drives and whatever else popped into his head. 

“Er… Are you all right?” he asked suddenly, and Donna realized she’d leaned her head against his shoulder. 

She jerked up. “Of course I am! Just a little tired! You’re the one babbling on like a white noise machine!” 

The Doctor eyed her and she tried not to hold her breath, but after a pause that couldn’t possibly have been as long as it seemed, he shrugged it off.

“None taken,” he said, drolly. 

She could feel the time ticking down, and scooted over to lean against the console so they were facing each other. 

He fumbled the wrench and nearly lost it inside the panel, conveniently distracting himself for several minutes. 

Donna shifted between senses as rapidly as she could, trying to simultaneously take in every detail of difference and the many more unchanged elements, hidden out of sight of humans. 

He was the same on every plane except for the ones she defaulted to. 

She doggedly flipped through the sequence again, trying to get her other senses aligned. 

The Doctor glanced up at her, looking faintly nervous, and on his third glanceit shifted to something a bit sharper. “Is…uh… something wrong?”

“What?” she asked, blinking a bit too rapidly as her eyes refocused. “No! What, am I supposed to be taking notes?” 

He had that blank stare that meant he was trying to check something out of the basic range of vision. 

She realized, with a lurch, that she’d have to leave soon or risk disrupting both their timelines. 

“Guess I should go check back in on Gramps and Mum,” she forced herself to say in a reasonably neutral tone.

The Doctor blinked out of his staring and switched instantly to thinly-veiled disappointment. “Are you sure? You could stay. I’ll stop asking if you’re all right.” 

She forced a smile so she wouldn’t cry at his predictable response. Even a spaced-out, strangely clingy companion was preferable to being left to his own devices. 

“It’s just a quick visit,” she said, “I’ll be right back.” She tried to remember if they’d had any plans afterwards. It had seemed like such an ordinary day at the time. Nothing stood out in either version of her memory. 

The Doctor pouted, but scooted back to let give her room to stand. 

She paused, half crouched, and couldn’t quite resist the urge to hug him. She couldn’t justify it, and she couldn’t keep from gripping him just a little too tightly, but the Doctor just made a pleased sound and hugged her back.

“How late are you planning to run?” he asked, laughing a little, but leaning in. Always up for a hug, the Doctor. 

She laughed, and it was just a little damper than it should be. “Well, it can’t hurt to be proactive.” She swallowed down any treacherous thoughts and pulled back, hopping up before he could get too close a look at her face. 

He watched her go, gloriously unconcerned. “You’re coming back, right?” he asked, clearly teasing. 

She looked him over, trying to lock in every detail on every level without giving herself away right at the end. 

“I’ll always come back,” she said. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” 

The Doctor grinned crookedly and she forced herself back through the doors. 


	10. Homecoming

Donna closed the TARDIS doors, careful not to go suspiciously slowly. She forced her feet to carry her back to the other blue box, parked around the corner. 

It felt like walking through a mire; every step was harder than it should have been, but she knew she couldn’t stop. The timelines were already tangled, stretched to the breaking point. 

By the time she reached the blue doors she realized she was crying. Thick, slow-moving tears obscured her vision and no matter how many times she swallowed she couldn’t seem to dislodge whatever was welling in the back of her throat. 

All the things that could never be changed broke out of their carefully-crafted compartments and poured into her abdomen. A single sob snuck out, followed by another, and then she couldn’t quite stop, nearly going to her knees. 

She let the flood well up, and just when she thought it might drown her from the inside, something broke loose and it all just drained away, settling her back on her feet. 

She still had her best friend. She had her memories. She had a Time Lord brain packed in her human head. 

The details didn’t matter. She could finally move forward.

She scrubbed her sleeves over her eyes and pushed inside the TARDIS.

The Doctor was standing right where she’d left her; she hadn’t even bothered to sit down. She seemed particularly ill-fitted for her form, somehow smaller than usual. 

Donna carefully shifted her view. The Doctor was still the same on nearly every plane. Time arched around her, just as it always had. The universe bent back and in on itself, carving out space just for her. 

If Donna concentrated just so, she could override her own filters and imagine she’d just popped out and right back in. 

She locked in the overlay and marched over.

“This is for taking my memories,” she announced and slapped her stupid best friend as hard as she could.


	11. Onward

“Hey!” A sharp voice rang out, making Donna jump. 

She whirled around to find three people gaping at her in varying levels of concern and indignation. Not quite sure how she missed them. Though she supposed she’d been a bit distracted. 

“Oh,” Donna said intelligently, “...Hello.” 

“What are you doing, barging in here and slapping the Doctor?” A young Indian woman stepped forward, squaring herself for a confrontation. 

“Ah,” Donna said, “You must be the fam. I thought you were out _for some reason_." She directed a pointed look at the Doctor. 

Three sets of eyes narrowed at her and then shifted as one to the Doctor. 

The Doctor was still rubbing her cheek, and took a moment to realize she was the center of attention. 

“Right, right. Donna Noble, meet the fam. Fam, meet Donna Noble.” She rubbed her cheek again and then blinked, realizing they were all still staring. “What?” 

“You really have gotten worse at this,” Donna chided. 

“You _hit_ me!” the Doctor whined. 

Donna crossed her arms, entirely unapologetic. “Had it coming, didn’t you?”

The Doctor looked away, grumbling. 

“Oh, is that your wife?” the older man asked.

“No, we’re not married,” the Doctor said at the same time Donna groaned, “Oh, not this again!” 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, that seemed to only raise more questions. 

“Do you not say ‘wife’ in this scenario?” the older white man turned to the younger black man for validation just as the younger man asked, “Is this why you locked us in the media maze? So you could, what, TARDIS and chill?” 

The young woman gaped at both of them and then loudly asked, “Doctor, _who is that_?!”

“This is Donna Noble,” the Doctor said slowly, like the translators might be glitching. 

“Hello,” Donna waved. 

There was a long, expectant pause.

Donna coughed pointedly. 

“Are you getting a cold?” the Doctor asked. 

Donna rolled her eyes. “You daft, useless―“ she turned back to the trio, plastering on her best ‘everything is fine’ smile, “I used to travel with the Doctor.” 

“She’s my best mate,” the Doctor chimed in, working her jaw.

Donna couldn’t quite keep from smiling a little more genuinely. 

The trio looked back and forth between them. 

“So you’re coming with us?” the younger man asked. 

“No,” the Doctor answered, at the same time as Donna said, “Not sure yet.”

The Doctor whirled on her, painfully hopeful, and Donna wrapped an arm around her shoulders because she couldn’t quite keep from doing it. 

The fam stared at her like she’d casually snatched up a cobra and kissed it on the mouth. 

“How new are they?” Donna asked in a stage-whisper. 

The Doctor shrugged, her own arm snaking around her back to grip just a bit too tightly. “Not new at all. They do this sometimes. Bit like having a Greek chorus.” 

The young woman seemed to get that reference. “Hey! We are _not_! We’re trying to figure out why you’ve never mentioned a best mate before! Since when do you have a best mate?” 

Both Donna and the Doctor went a bit tense, but Donna was the one who answered, because it seemed the Doctor was still forgetting how social interactions worked. “I was… away… for awhile. Had to take the slow path back, you might say.” 

The Doctor gave her a nervous look out of the corner of her eye and for just a moment she had trouble focusing. 

“Well, Mystery Friend,” the older man piped up, “Don’t suppose you’d like to stay for tea? Could tell us some stories about the Doc? We can never tell whether she’s just making things up.” 

Donna snorted, “Don’t think you need me to tell you she talks rubbish all the time, but I could stay for tea.” 

The Doctor grinned in her peripheral vision, bouncing.

“Oh, shut up,” Donna grumbled, “Smug doesn’t look any better on you now than it ever did.” 

“You like it,” the Doctor beamed back. 

She did, a bit, but she wasn’t going to admit it. 


End file.
